Next to the Blue House

Next to the blue house there was silence and an espresso machine
For six shekels
I could break off my rumbling stomach’s static economics
And enter the collected films of Felinni
We had sex before
Parallel to another couple in the adjacent room
She loved his dick
At the moment that you glued quietness to the ceiling of the shabby hotel room
Again Fellinni with bags of cottage cheese crosses the street lengthways
A man in the heart of the desert night
And we are there
In a new edition of existence
And I’m already not laughing about your quantum proof of God’s
Being